Tomorrow morning I'm riding the r2 into Philadelphia, multitasking on a bus for three hours, and ending up in the place where my boots are always wet. Three years of this same exact pattern, you call me to say "don't talk to those freaks at the bus station Erica, I love you!" Some things stay the same.

And Some things inevitably change. My mother is so strong, outgoing, and so much like me that it gives me nightmares. I wish I could shake you back to the way you used to pose. Your voices needs to be taken down about 5 octaves, thanks.